


In Dreams, What May...

by Always_jbj



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6488581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_jbj/pseuds/Always_jbj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to Bloodshedbaby for the lovely banner<br/>And as always to my wonderful beta AmyB for all her hard work.  </p><p>Summary: In a nightmare world a slayer and a vampire meet under unusual circumstances.</p><p>Season 1 set in an alternative 'Nightmares'<br/>In response to: Jillybean’s challenge #45 on the Bloodshedverse</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Whose nightmare is this?” Xander queried as he looked around the darkened graveyard. It certainly didn’t seem that bad; it was nothing compared to killer clowns or being naked, anyway. He brought his attention back to his companions, prepared to make a quip about how this was just another day in Sunnydale for the Scooby gang. With a start, he noticed the look of shocked resignation on the normally stoic librarian’s face; Giles was paused statue-still, staring intently at a gravestone. Xander moved closer to look at what could possibly have caused the blood to drain so completely from the older man’s face.

“It’s mine.” Giles’s voice echoed with the loss of hope as he knelt reverently next to the marker. His movement affording the others their first clear view of the inscription thereon: Buffy Summers 1981 - 1997.  
“I've failed... in my duty to protect you. I should have been more c... cautious. Taken more time to train you. But you were so gifted. And the evil was so great. I'm sorry...”

A sinister laugh broke through the blanket of grief that had descended upon the trio by the graveside. “Well, well… What have we here?” The black-clad bleached blonde flowed out of the shadows, every movement graceful and predatory; waves of fear travelled before him, waiting to absorb those caught in their wake.

“Heard this town is home to the slayer. Now, I don’t sense her ‘round here anywhere, but I sure as hell know a Council wanker when I see one. So what’s it to be—you tell me where I can find the Slayer and I kill you real quick? Or…” A deep throaty chuckle completely absent of humour, and dripping with menace sounded before the newcomer continued, his voice low and dangerous, “better still, you don’t tell me where she is… And I get to kill you, nice an' slowly.”

“Oh, my dear lord. Run, now.” Giles faced the vampire, fingers searching his pockets frantically for the stake that he knew he would not find there. He only hoped he could buy enough time for the children to get safely away.

Giles swallowed hard against the lump in his throat; this is what he had trained for. It was just a vampire—just a vampire. The creature stalked towards him, long black coat flowing behind him, piercing blue eyes promising pain and death. It was at that moment that Giles realised that the vampire still bore its human features. The realisation made his blood run colder than it had before; only vampires of incredible strength and power were able to hold their human features firmly in place even while hunting.

“You’re too late—if you’re looking for the slayer, that is.”

“Oh? An’ why’s that then?”

“Because she’s… well, she’s there.” Giles pointed to the grave he had been kneeling at only moments before.

“’s that so? Well then, I guess she won’t be missin’ her watcher, will she?”

Faster than the vampire’s words could register in his brain, Giles found himself held in a vice-like grip. He heard the bones in the vampire’s face shift and then the sharp stinging pain as its fangs sank into his neck. Struggle as he might, he was unable to break the vampire’s grip, and felt himself growing weaker by the moment as his blood was drawn from him in strong, vicious pulls. 

The sound of earth being displaced drew the vampire’s attentions from his meal; dropping the watcher to the ground, he spun around in time to see a shapely hand emerge from the freshly turned soil. Amber eyes searched the graveyard for signs of the others of his kind. Where was this childe’s sire? If what the watcher had told him was true, the fledgling fighting to emerge from the depths was none other than the slayer herself. Who would sire such a childe and not be here to welcome her into their dark world?

His features slipped back into the smooth planes and chiselled good looks of his human visage as he moved to kneel by the graveside, and he watched as the newly-turned vampire below the surface heaved her way out and into the night.

“Well, hello, cutie.” He reached a hand out to help her from her grave.

She stepped from the grave and, releasing his hand, dusted the dirt from her clothes and hair.

Satisfied that she was at least as presentable as you can be after just crawling out from beneath six feet of dirt, she narrowed her gaze at the blonde stranger. “Who are you?”

“M’ names, Spike, love. You?” Burning blue eyes took in her lithe form, beginning at her face and trailing slowly down her body, sliding back up again to meet with her luminous amber ones.

Buffy’s eyes travelled equally slowly over his body, finishing at his face. Wow, big chunk of salty goodness; I thought this was supposed to be nightmare day, not dreams come true day. She forced herself from her deliberations and back to his question. “Buffy.”

“What was that?” He smirked, his eyes lighting with mirth and mischief.

“I said, Buffy. That’s my name.” She huffed at his obvious amusement. Okay, cute and sexy, but also, annoying!

“Right then, pet. Buffy it is.” He managed, barely, to keep the laughter out of his voice. His head tilted and his left eyebrow raised slightly as he surveyed her once more. Buffy noted with interest that he had a rather sexy scar running through that particular eyebrow, and wondered briefly what it would be like to nibble along it.

“You feelin’ hungry by any chance, kitten?”

Once the words were spoken she realised that she was indeed hungry; beyond hungry, in fact. Her mouth watered as a delectable scent filled her nostrils.

“Yeah, starving…What’s on offer?” Buffy looked at him as though he might suddenly start sprouting prime ribs or jelly donuts.

“Well, by all rights, pet, should be sire’s blood for you. But seein’ as your sire hasn’t bothered to show… How’s about a little priggish watcher to tide you over for a bit; 'til we find you something better, that is.” Spike gently took her arm and turned to lead her over to where he had dropped the watcher on the grass. He pulled up short when she didn’t move to follow him. He turned back around and to his astonishment she was running her hands over her face and keening quietly.

“What's wrong, love?” For the world, he couldn't work out what had her so upset. He stepped forward to wrap a comforting arm around her slim shoulders. “Easy there, kitten. What could possibly be so bad to have you in such a state?”

At his urging, she finally removed her hands from her face to reveal once more her beautiful amber eyes and the distinctive brow-ridges of her demon face. “Look at me, I’m ugly. And, oh God, I’m a vampire. You need to get out of here. Get away from me.” She made to cover her face once more but was prevented from doing so as the gorgeous blonde grabbed her wrists, his grip surprisingly strong.

“For starters,” he leaned down and forced her to look him in the eye, “you are not ugly. You're bloody beautiful. And secondly, pet, I have no need to get away from you.” With that, he allowed his vampiric features to surge forth. Her sharp hiss of indrawn breath and automatic shift out of his hands and into fighting stance took him by surprise; her spinning kick to his jaw sent him flying backwards.

“Bloody hell, woman. What was that for?” He rubbed his jaw; bint had a damned good kick on her.

“I… You’re a vampire!”

“Yeah! An’ so are you. What of it?”

“But, I… How? I mean…”

“What do you mean? Cause you’re not makin’ a lot of sense, love. You must remember being turned…who your sire is?”

“No. That’s just it. I wasn’t. I mean I’m not. I can’t be.” Buffy drew a deep, no longer necessary, breath. “This morning, I was in school. And then—things—started happening. Odd things, like spiders, and this boy and a big ugly man—that’s what the boy called him, ‘the ugly man’. Then we were running away, and we climbed through a hedge and wound up here, but it was suddenly dark. And then the Master came. He grabbed me and threw me in the grave, and buried me. But there was no with the bitey, and, and… This just can’t be happening. And oh God, am I hungry!”

Spike chuckled. “That’s ‘cause you are yet to feed. Like I said before, by rights your sire shoulda been here when you rose. But, seein’ as he’s not… ‘An that you say you don’t even have a sire…” he raised his hands in the air in a sign of truce and walked slowly back to where the newly-turned slayer stood uncertainly. “C’mere, love. It's alright, let me take care of you.” He reached out and gently stroked her cheek, sliding his hand upwards, fingers spread to tangle gently into the honey waves of her hair. With his thumb he firmly but tenderly rubbed her brow ridges before stepping closer, his hand leaving her face to cup the back of her head and guide her gently to his neck.

Spike hissed as the slayer’s fangs slid into his throat, pulling deeply on the strong blood of her surrogate sire. He allowed her to feed longer than a sire would normally allow; his dick throbbing harder in his jeans at each consecutive draw his ‘childe’ made. The sensation was intoxicating, and it was with great reluctance that he finally pushed her away. “That’s enough for now, love.”

When Buffy refused to stop, a low warning growl issued from him, quickly quelling any further rebellious thought the new vampire may have had. She ducked her face in apology and burrowed in against his chest; everything was just happening so fast. She was scared, she was a vampire and she was alone. Her friends could be anywhere. But as his arms tightened around her, she realised she was wrong about one thing: she was not alone.

Spike lifted her face until she looked him in the eye, her softer human features and brightly shining green eyes in place now that hunger no longer drove her demon forward.

“Right. Now I’m just gonna finish up with my meal an’ then we need to think about somewhere to stay.”

Spike strode over to where the watcher had fallen, but as he cast his eyes around, he saw no sign of his misplaced meal. “Damn.” He scented the air, the sweet aroma of fresh blood led away and out of the cemetery grounds. “Looks like dinner's buggered off,” he muttered. With a frustrated growl, he turned back to the girl he had come to Sunnydale to kill, and whom he had now claimed as his childe. “C’mon, kitten. Let’s see if we can find some decent digs for the night.”


	2. Chapter 2

They reached the cemetery gates and looked out in amazement into a sunlit world. Buffy started through the gate and yelped as Spike grabbed her arm, roughly hauling her back.

“Ow. What was that for?”

“Sunlight, pet. You were right—whatever’s goin’ on here‘s weird, but it doesn’t change the fact that you,” he stabbed a finger at her, “are a vampire. You go out in that sun, and dust is all you’ll be.”

“Oh, God. I forgot. I’m sorry… I just… I wasn’t thinking.” A shudder of fear ran through her at the thought of how close she had come to committing accidental suicide.

He gathered her close against him, feeling her body tremble slightly in his arms. “Yeah, well… ‘s time to start thinking, okay?” he asked gruffly, his tone softened by his concern for her. She nodded against his chest and, satisfied that the lesson was well learned, he released her. “C’mon, let’s see what we can find 'round here.” 

They headed off through the night-shrouded grounds, Buffy happily deferring to the older vampire’s knowledge as to what made a good lair. His urgency somewhat of a mystery to her, she finally ventured the courage to ask him what the rush was.

“’s obvious this is all some kinda spell, pet. So, same deal as before at the gate; we get caught out here when whatever it is that’s causing this wears off, an’ you an’ me—nothin’ but two big piles of dust.”

A chill ran down her spine at his words. Okay, he was right; she was so going to have to start thinking. Everything she had ever taken for granted no longer applied. She needed to start listening to her vampire instincts, and fast.

Spike’s voice cut through her self-flagellation.

“Now this looks promising.” He led the way into an old crypt, the heavy oak doors giving reluctantly under the force of a few sharp blows. The inside was musty, with cobwebs and dust littering all surfaces, but it was roomy. Although two small windows graced the walls, they were made of stained glass and mostly covered on the outside by foliage from the creeper that adorned the crypt, preventing any sunlight from filtering through. All things considered, it had the makings of a very nice lair; even Buffy, early in her vamp-hood, could see that.

*****

Giles stumbled out of the cemetery grounds and into the sunlight, sinking exhaustedly to his knees on the warm grassy verge. The pain from the wound on his neck barely registered over the anguish in his heart. His slayer was gone. Truthfully, she was worse than gone—she had become the evil she had fought so valiantly against. Slow, silent tears ran unacknowledged down his face. 

Time passed unheeded by the grieving man; whether he had been there five minutes or five hours, he could not say. All he knew was the torturous grief that filled his being, the keen awareness that he was in no small measure responsible for the fate that had befallen his charge—a girl he had come to love as dearly as if she were his own daughter. 

“Quick! I found him. He’s over here.” Xander’s excited voice broke through the cloud of misery surrounding him, and he shook himself to clear his head. Yes, he had lost Buffy; but her friends were alright, and it was the least he could do to see that they stayed that way. He must ensure their safety until such time as they were able to ascertain the cause of, and eliminate, the current state of mayhem that had so recently overtaken the town. 

Before he'd had time to completely gather his thoughts, he found himself staring into the eager faces of the children whose fates and security he was taking it upon himself to preserve. Willow threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. After a few moments, she pulled back to look at him; he noted that her face was a combination of sheer delight that he was still amongst the living and trepidation over the current state of events.

“You’re okay! We were so worried! And that vampire… Giles, he was really scary. Like Nightmare on Elm Street scary!”

“Oh yeah, Will—cause watching it with your head hidden under a quilt would be a good way to know how scary it was.” Xander seized the opportunity with both hands and quickly adopted the air of male superiority that he so seldom got away with, considering the company he chose to keep. 

“I could hear it. And I have a highly vivid imagination, I’ll have you know.”

“Children.” Giles tried weakly to interrupt the two teenagers, his voice quiet and feeble even to his own ears. 

“Besides, I’m not the one who got all freaked out over Dumbo!” Willow raised her eyebrow scornfully at her friend.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that was completely justified. I was five, and besides, those clowns were evil! Why is it that I’m the only one who sees the evil in them?” he whined pitifully in response.

“Xander, it’s a cartoon.”

“There is truth in that, yes. But I still maintain that they definitely rated super-high on the creep-o-meter.” 

Giles drew a deep breath; summoning every ounce of his remaining strength, he tried once more to interrupt the arguing teenagers. His effort, although slightly louder than his last, still failed to break through the petty squabbling in which the two were so deeply engaged. It did, however, drain the last of his reserves, and with a pain-filled groan he sank to his side on the grass and waited for the comforting embrace of oblivion.

His slow descent to the ground succeeded where his efforts at speech had failed, catching Willow’s eye and breaking the argument immediately.

“Giles! Are you alright?” Willow attempted in vain to pull the watcher up from the ground.

“I rather think not.” Giles tried to keep his voice as calm and even as possible, even as the overwhelming urge to close his eyes and welcome unconsciousness became stronger.

“Oh my. Xander, help me! We need to get him to a hospital… I… I think he’s been bitten!”

“What? No! That can’t be—the G-man wouldn’t be beaten by…”

“By what, Xan? The scariest vampire either of us have ever laid eyes on?” Willow retorted, again raising a sceptical eyebrow at her friend. Honestly, he could be so dense…

“I wish Buffy was here.” Xander’s voice rose in an unmanly squeak as panic ripped through him.

“Yeah, me too. But she isn’t, so you’re gonna have to help me.” Willow fixed her friend with what she hoped was a firm, unwavering resolve-face, while on the inside she trembled with fear and uncertainty. Giles had to be alright! With Buffy gone, he was all they had left.

 

*****

Spike set to dusting off the large stone sarcophagus in the centre of the room; when he had finished, he held out his hand to Buffy, silently inviting her to sit.

Buffy removed the pale blue leather jacket she was wearing and sneered worriedly at the sarcophagus before pouting down at her lovely jacket where it lay in her arms.

“What’s wrong, pet?” Spike asked, noting the none-too-happy look on his childe’s face.

“It’s all dirty,” she pouted at him. “I’ll ruin my clothes.”

“Well, sit on your jacket if you’re that worried. Not like it’s gonna kill you or anything—‘s only a little dust.”

“But I don’t wanna get my new jacket dirty. It cost me a lot of money—and it’s pretty. Why don’t you put yours on there?” Her eyes lit up at her solution.

“No bloody way!”

“Why not? Yours is old, and besides it’s black so it won’t show up any of the dirt.” Her lip jutted out in a perfect pout, and she ducked her head and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Please?”

She was bloody adorable. And that lip—god how he ached to taste it.

“This coat ‘s worth a hell of a lot more’n that little thing you’re wearin’. ‘sides, I’ve had it a long time, an’ it’s—significant.”

“What do you mean ‘it's significant’? I mean, what kind of big worldly importance can a coat have? It just keeps you warm... except, you know, you don't get cold. And hey! Why do you have to talk like that? God, you sound just like my watcher, only... not.”

“Talk like what, pet? You mean use words over two syllables?” He chuckled softly to himself at the look of indignation on her pretty little face. Realisation of the rest of her comment caused the laughter to die as suddenly as it had begun. “Oi, you little bint! I sound nothin’ like your bleedin’ ponce of a Watcher!”

“Geesh, you don’t have to get all like… that. So?”

“So what?” Spike looked at her, his brow creasing; it was hard work following this one round the bends.

Buffy’s pout grew, and she huffed impatiently at her proxy-sire. “So what is so important about a silly old coat?”

“Took it off the last slayer I killed, that’s what. I‘ve had this beauty for twenty odd years, an ‘m not about to ruin it just so your pretty little behind doesn’t get a bit grubby.”

“What?”

“I said, I’m not gonna ruin the coat just…”

“No. About the slayer. You killed a slayer?”

A self-satisfied grin lit Spike’s face, and his chest puffed out a bit as he replied. “No, love. I haven’t killed a slayer—I’ve killed two!” He waited for her adoration, or at the very least her surprise and awe… the last thing he expected was what he got.

Tears pricked his eyes as he clutched his nose. The bitch hit me! A deep growl sounded in his throat, and his fist shot out in reply.

They faced off, both falling immediately into fighting stance: one completely brassed off vampire, and his equally pissed slayer/childe.

They danced around the room, fists and feet flying, fangs flashing as they pummelled each other—each of them fuelled by self-righteous indignation and the thrill of the fight.

Eventually, the older vampire succeeded in pinning his wayward childe against the wall; he growled his fury at her before sinking his fangs deeply and roughly into her soft tender flesh. In deep draws, he pulled on the delicious nectar of her slayer’s blood; Spike drank until she whimpered softly in submission, then gently licked the wounds closed before gathering her close in his arms. He nuzzled gently and soothingly into her hair, stroking her back with long, calming sweeps of his hand. The aim had not been to hurt her; rather, his intent had just been to teach her her place. Now that the lesson had been learned, he allowed himself to soften, his voice quiet when next he spoke.

“Shush , love. ‘s okay now. You just be remembering your manners, an’ we won’t have this problem again.”

He picked her up and carried her to the sarcophagus. He placed her so that she stood on her feet, resting weakly against the stone; removing his coat, he bundled it tightly and placed it down at one end, before picking her up once more and laying down carefully. Spike settled comfortably on his back, his head pillowed on his coat as he gathered the girl’s pliant body against him, tucking her against his side with her head resting on his shoulder.

“You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

“You... You killed slayers!” Buffy tried to be vehement, but her reply came out weak; she was too busy fighting the overwhelming urge to let her eyes drift closed and allow sleep to claim her.

“Yeah. But ‘m still not understanding why you went all Xena on me?”

“I’m a slayer, Spike. It’s… well… it’s wrong. That’s all.” 

“You _were_ a slayer, love. Not any more. You’re a vampire now, an’ our world is dog eat dog. You kill the slayer, or she’ll kill you. ‘s as simple as that. You go feelin’ all kinship-like with the slayer an I’ll be mournin’ your dust. You understand what I’m sayin'?”

After a few moments of silence he felt the slight nod of her head against him and a soft sob as she snuggled deeply into his chest, clinging closely to the only person she had left in the world as if terrified he would be taken from her.

Spike hauled her gently on top of him, tilting his head and manoeuvring her head against his neck. “Drink, love. It's alright. Just don’t you be bloody hitting me again, you understand?”

Even with his vampire-enhanced hearing he barely made out her softly spoken agreement. Her fangs pierced his neck, and a rush of lust had his cock jumping to attention as his arms tightened protectively around her. This time when he told her it was enough, she stopped without hesitation or argument, licking tenderly at the wounds to heal them. 

“Okay, pet. Let’s get some sleep.” 

She shifted off him and moved to his side; curling herself around him, her head pillowed on his shoulder and her left leg thrown over his. The combination of his cool fingers gently stroking her hair and the safe comfort of her sire’s presence soon had her drifting off to sleep, a quiet purr sounding in her throat.

Spike lay awake for some time. He watched Buffy as she slept peacefully in his arms and marvelled at the incredible turn of events that had brought this slayer to him. He had come here to kill her, to add another notch to his belt. To prove something to himself—and to another. Instead, he had ended up with the slayer as his childe. His mind spun with seemingly endless questions.

Strangely, the feeling of her tiny body wrapped around him was rapidly driving out all the thoughts and agendas that had driven him in recent months. The gentle, contented sounds emanating from her slowly lulled him towards sleep, and his eyes drifted closed as he allowed the soothing tones of his childe’s affection to wash over him.


	3. Chapter 3

The quiet reassuring beeps of the machines were Willow’s current lifeline; along with the hand she clung to desperately, they kept her anchored in a world that had suddenly become terrifyingly uncertain. Xander was alternating between blind panic and macho reassurance, neither of which were doing much to calm Willow’s frazzled nerves. The doctors had worked on Giles for hours; he had been given a blood transfusion, and the worried teenagers had been informed that it was now a matter of waiting for him to regain consciousness. The two teenagers had sat with him for the last several hours, Willow stationed diligently by his side, clinging fast to his hand and willing him to open his eyes with her every thought. Xander, unable to stand the tension in the room and not exactly good at waiting, would sit for a while before wandering the halls in search of vending machines or other distractions. 

Xander didn’t cope well with sick people, and to see Giles lying there looking so completely helpless unnerved him more than he cared to admit. There were certain constants in his life, and he needed them all. Willow would always be his friend. His parents would always suck, big-time. Buffy would always be the slayer and would protect them from the evil things of this world. And Giles… Giles would always be strong and brave and would always know exactly what to do in every situation. The latter of those certainties had been severely challenged within a single day, with Buffy’s death and Giles’ incapacity, and the resulting effect was that he was left feeling more scared and lost than he could remember feeling in a very long time.

*****

Buffy had a moment of complete disorientation upon waking, a moment that increased in length once she realised that she was in strange surroundings and curled around a strong male body. What? Where? Then she remembered. An unneeded breath caught in her throat. I’m a vampire… Oh god, I’m a vampire. What am I gonna do? Mommy… I want my…well, at least I don’t want to kill her. That has to be good, right? But why don’t I? Angel said that all vampires do. She looked down at the man—no, vampire… he was a vampire like her—sleeping peacefully beside her. He was her Sire… well, not technically, but he felt like her Sire, and… wow was he gorgeous. Her eyes ran hungrily over the sharp planes of his face, the long thick eyelashes brushing against his cheek, the curls loosened by sleep that her fingers longed to play with.

He had been so good to her, this stranger; he had taken her under his wing, caring for her when she was lost and scared. He had given her his blood, Sire’s blood, when she was hungry and had kept her safe from the sunlight and her own stupidity. She thought guiltily about the fight they’d had and how he had stopped her and put her in her place; but then, afterwards, he'd been so gentle with her—tender and caring. It had felt so good going to sleep wrapped around him, just knowing that she was safe and that he would look after her. Being a vampire was so far nothing like she had imagined it would be. The horror stories she had heard from both her watcher and Angel had her convinced that vampires were pure evil and cared for nothing and no one, that they were completely driven by selfish desires and bloodlust—and yet this vampire had taken her under his wing when he’d had no need to. He could just as easily have killed her, or left her to fend for herself in the harsh and suddenly-frightening real world. Instead, he had been kind and loving and protective, and it felt so good just being near him—it felt safe, peaceful even. She didn’t have to fight off uncontrollable urges to go and kill her family and friends; in fact, the only time she'd had any loss of control was when she'd been so hungry, but Spike had fed her and once she was full she was fine again.

Her eyes wandered once more to the vampire in question, eagerly absorbing every detail. He was slim, but in no way skinny; she could see the lines of his muscles under his oh-so-tight t-shirt, and she knew that he was seriously well-built despite his lean frame. His face was gorgeous; when he was awake, it was handsome, but now, when he lay still, relaxed and sleeping, it was simply beautiful. She allowed her eyes to travel lower, taking in the strong abdominals rippling below his shirt, the slim waist, the…

Her thoughts were interrupted by a dry chuckle and a warm, molten-chocolate voice still husky from sleep. “See something you like, pet?” 

With a start, she dragged her eyes away from the very obvious bulge in his jeans and up to the mischievous blue eyes laughing up at her.

“I... um…” Buffy faltered, not knowing how to voice the feelings he was stirring in her.

“C’mere, pet,” he invited, still chuckling softly. He held his arm out, urging her to him.

Buffy hesitated for only a second and then moved to slip into his arms, welcoming his touch as he pulled her close to his body and snuggled her in against his side. His head tilted slightly as he looked at her, almost as though he were trying to solve a puzzle. He smiled gently and reassuringly before slowly leaning in to capture her lips with his. The kiss was beyond chaste, was really just the barest whisper of a touch, but still it sent shocks racing through her body, making her ache for more. Spike’s arm tightened slightly around her, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, and he took her soft moan as all the encouragement he required to continue.

When her tongue tentatively traced his bottom lip, he groaned hungrily and parted his lips to allow her the access that she had silently requested. Her timid explorations were exciting him more than he would have imagined possible, and he responded with gentle explorations of his own in reply. His hands traced her body, stroking her back, tangling in the long golden waves of her hair, reaching down to cup her bum and pull her closer still. He crushed her against him in an effort to ease some of the need in his aching cock. He felt her slight recoil when her body encountered the erection that was straining to break free from the confines of his jeans and broke from her lips to soothe her gently. Pressing his lips against her ear, he murmured softly, “It's alright, love. Nothing has to happen that you don’t want to. We’ll just take it nice an’ slow.”

Buffy moved closer to her proxy sire’s gorgeous body, desperately wanting to show him that she was more than ready and that ‘slow’ was the last thing she was interested in. She hadn’t meant to flinch away; it wasn’t that she didn’t want him, or that she was scared—she just hadn’t expected him to be so… well, big. The feel of it had given her a momentary start, but now that the initial shock was over all she wanted was to get closer to his beautiful body. His lips and hands were working together to send her senses into rapid overload; the gentle slide of his tongue, the soft lips caressing hers, and the long cool fingers tracing fire across her body were combining to drive her insane with need.

Spike’s fingers slid below the hem of her shirt, trailing gently over the soft skin of her back before sliding around to the front and slowly easing his way up from her waist to cup one small, soft breast. His thumb flicked gently across her lace-covered nipple, repeating the action once more when she gasped and then moaned with pleasure as she arched her back to press herself more firmly into his hand. He smiled at her reaction to his touch and gently pinched the eager flesh between his thumb and forefinger in reward, eliciting further moans and whimpers of delight from the girl at his side as she pressed ever closer to him. He quickly divested her of her flimsy top and reached down to trace the lacy patterns of her bra with his lips and teeth, his tongue flicking out to tease her aching nipple before catching it in his teeth and squeezing gently then soothing once more with gentle licks. His fingers worked the clasp of the garment, and he slowly lowered the pristine white lace to reveal the soft golden skin of her breasts, the dusky pink areolas puckered tightly as her nipples reached for further contact with her lover’s talented mouth. 

At her eager response to his caresses, Spike lay on his side and drew Buffy’s leg up and over his hip, cupping her bum and stroking the soft curves before pulling her body tighter against his. All the while, his mouth continued to exert wicked torture upon her sensitive nipples. This time, when his straining erection came in contact with her moist centre she didn’t flinch away; instead, she tried to enhance the feeling and tentatively moved against him. The obvious pleasure he derived from her movements, as well as the exquisite sensations they caused in her own aching flesh, encouraged Buffy to bolder experimentation; she ground harder against him, gasping in delight as her clit rubbed against the rough denim covering his incredibly hard cock. 

She had to touch him, to feel his body. She grasped the hem of his t-shirt and pushed it upwards urgently, her hands desperate to get to the skin below. With a pleased chuckle at her obvious need, Spike released the nipple he had been happily suckling on and pulled his shirt over his head, moaning happily as her hands laid claim to his newly-exposed flesh. His continued attention to her breasts, his hands that were leaving trails of fire wherever they touched, and the pulsing need at her core as she ground herself against her sire’s erection had Buffy keening in delight and desperate need. She was lost in a delirious miasma of pleasure that seemed to grow greater, more all-encompassing, by the moment. He closed his blunt human teeth down sharply on the over-sensitised nipple he had been worrying with his tongue, sending her body racing over the edge into wave after wave of blinding orgasm as he worked her body to extend her pleasure. His hips bucked towards her, and he rubbed his cock against her as he sought to not only increase her enjoyment but to ease some of the desperate ache continuing to build in his own body.

Her desperate gasps for unneeded breath slowed, and her pleasure-glazed eyes focused once more upon his. Spike reached for the zip of her skin-tight pants, his own need building to an unbearable level; he peeled the pants off her, leaving her clad only in a delicate scrap of perfect white lace. He pushed her onto her back and moved down her body to settle between her thighs; reaching out with his tongue, he traced the outline of her outer lips through the thin fabric and gloated as she bucked upwards and began to pant again. The taste and scent of her assaulted his senses and he couldn’t stop the hungry groan that passed his lips, the sound vibrating against her and causing a fresh flood of juices to further soak her panties. 

With tongue and teeth he launched his attack, driving her rapidly to the brink of orgasm but never quite allowing her over that edge. After what seemed an eternity of torture, he grasped the fabric in his teeth and tore the panties from her body. His face hovered a fraction of an inch from her now-exposed pussy as he breathed deeply, inhaling the rich musky scent of her need before exhaling a long cool breath across her throbbing clit. He reached out to lap tenderly at her, tasting her arousal as his tongue dipped between her folds and then delved eagerly into her depths. Her moans increased in urgency, her body writhing in pleasure under his expert ministrations.

Buffy’s fingers entwined in his hair, desperately holding him to her, seeking greater contact as he drove her to the brink of orgasm over and over again, all the while cruelly withholding the final release. Her whimpers reached fever pitch and he finally took pity on her, sucking and nibbling on her throbbing clit as he gently inserted two fingers into her slick passage, seeking out and finding her sweet spot. Her hips rose urgently in time with the thrust of his fingers; when he bit down sharply on her clit with his blunt human teeth, her body exploded, her inner walls clenching and unclenching around his fingers as her hips bucked wildly against him.

He marvelled at her responsiveness; the power of her orgasm had almost had him coming in his pants, something he hadn't done in a bloody long time, thanks ever so! As her tremors quietened, he withdrew his drenched fingers and licked them clean, savouring the taste of her juices before lowering his head to lap gently at the source for a few more moments. Spike rose from his position between her still-faintly quivering thighs to quickly divest himself of his jeans and finally allow his aching cock to spring free. Climbing back onto the sarcophagus, he crawled predatorily up her body to seize her mouth in a searing kiss as he settled between her legs, the head of his cock nestled in her damp curls. With a slight twist of his hips he brought himself to her entrance and in one quick thrust drove into her depths. Her tight walls closed around his cock and he moaned hungrily as the scent of her maiden’s blood combined with the heady aroma of her come to assail his senses.

Buffy felt a moment of exquisite pain as her lover forced his way through the delicate barrier, ripping it away as he filled her completely. Once inside her, he rested for a moment, allowing them both to savour the feel of each other, and her body adjusted rapidly to his sudden invasion. When he began to thrust slowly and deeply within her she quickly took up the rhythm he was setting, meeting him thrust for thrust and delighting in the sensations he was awaking in her. Her hands roamed hungrily over his body as he devoured her mouth with bone-melting kisses.

She gasped in surprise when he locked his arms around her body and quickly flipped them over, bringing her to rest on top of him. At his urging she sat straddling him, her hands resting on his chest, his cock embedded deeply within her. His hands grasped her hips firmly, guiding her actions until she caught on and kept the pace and rhythm for herself. Her control of the movement allowed his hands to roam across her body, and he traced her flesh avidly, stroking the soft underside of her breasts and cupping them gently. He worshipped her breasts, taking one in each hand and rubbing his thumbs roughly across her hardened nipples, making her cry and whimper with need. Spike propped himself up on his elbows, driving his cock deeper into Buffy and allowing him to briefly capture her nipple in his mouth with each forward rock of her hips.

Her pleasure mounted, and as her orgasm rapidly approached, her movements became erratic as she gasped for unneeded breath. Spike dropped his hands once more to her hips to guide her, setting a faster pace and twisting his hips so that he rubbed against her clit with each thrust. Her soft velvet walls fluttered around him, and her eyes glazed over as she became lost once more in the oblivion of ecstasy. With a ragged whimper she clamped her thighs tightly around his hips, locking him to her as she bucked and moaned above him, her inner walls milking his cock as her orgasm ripped through her. 

With a last desperate thrust, Spike gasped out “Buffy” as his own pleasure overwhelmed him. She collapsed onto his chest, breathing rapidly despite her body’s lack of need. His own breaths echoed hers as he nuzzled tenderly into the golden waves of her hair, wrapping his arms around her and gathering her close while planting gentle kisses on the top of her head and murmuring soft words attesting to her beauty and sweetness. For the first time in a long while, Spike was truly happy, and this tiny girl lying peacefully in his arms was the reason why. He smiled tenderly against her hair and marvelled at how good it felt to be wanted.

*****

Xander wandered through the halls, avoiding, for as long as possible, having to return to Giles’ room to watch the man lie helplessly in bed. He procrastinated in order to avoid the machines beeping and blinking, to avoid looking on while Willow held desperately to a hand that was supposed to be strong, which was supposed to be protecting them. A hand that instead lay limply in the hand of a terrified fifteen-year-old girl who muttered soft words of encouragement as she tried to remain strong in the face of the fear and grief which threatened to overwhelm her. Without Giles and Buffy, who could shield them from the horrors plucked directly from their minds and given flesh to run loose amid Sunnydale’s terrified citizens? 

Xander watched the chaos that resulted as doctors, nurses and patients alike succumbed to their worst nightmares. Not everyone was affected, but those who were ran screaming up the halls or cringed in a corner, arms wrapped protectively around themselves as they rocked and whimpered, lost in a nightmare world filled with terrors of their own creation.


End file.
